


Til Death Do Us Part

by Twenty_One_Grams



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphenphosmphobia, Demisexuality, Frottage, Graphic Description of Corpses, Higgs is also a litlle shit, I kinda fucked around with the concept of the Seam but it's all in good fun, M/M, Mentions of Voyeurism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post Repatriation Vomiting, Repatriate!Higgs, Repatriation Kink, Rough Sex, Slight Scent Kink, Top!Sam, Translation into Chinese available, a little horny shit, bottom!Higgs, higgs has a Sam kink, hopefully, slight size kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22324462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twenty_One_Grams/pseuds/Twenty_One_Grams
Summary: “Higgs.” Sam says. “What the fuck are you doing?”“Shit, Bridges, I know you’re a bit dense, but surely notthatdense?” Higgs asks and pulls back a little so he can look Sam in the eye. “What does it feel like I’m doing, hm?”“It feels like you’re dry humping me like a damn dog while talking about our shared ability to feel each other die,” Sam mumbles, slightly disgruntled. “Excuse me if I’m a little confused.”
Relationships: Sam Porter Bridges/Higgs Monaghan
Comments: 57
Kudos: 339





	Til Death Do Us Part

**Author's Note:**

> Translation into Chinese by lovely [mandrakebrew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandrakebrew) available [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26491336)!
> 
> Would like to dedicate this little piece to all the lovely ppl in the KinkStranding server, you guys rule!
> 
> HUGE thanks to lovely [Vigils](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vigils) for the beta (and coming up with the title)! <3
> 
> (If your first work for a fandom isn't smut then what are you doing)

As Sam looks down upon Higgs’ mutilated body, the only thought surging through his head is _this was not supposed to happen_. _This was not. Supposed. To happen._

Higgs is lying on his back, spine broken to shit. His limbs are bent at sick, unnatural angles. Bone sticks out the meat of his arms, tears through the thick fabric of his mud-stained clothes. Blood seeps from the stab wound in his stomach, soaks his shirt, reaches his cape and colors the gold of it red. 

His head is undamaged, didn't actually hit the ground. Courtesy of the shape of the rock he fell on. His mask is still intact, too. Sam absentmindedly wonders how its teeth would look covered in blood.

_This wasn't supposed to happen_ , Sam keeps thinking as he reaches an unsteady hand to press his fingers into the jaws of the golden skull, to push and pull, to remove it from Higgs' face and throw it to the ground next to his corpse. _How the_ **_hell_ ** _did this happen_ , Sam shifts his train of thought as he tugs on the corner of the second mask and pulls it off with some resistance as it clings to skin.

This is the first time Sam properly sees Higgs' face. He didn't think he'd have blue eyes. Blue, bright, lifelessly looking at the sky. Didn’t expect the freaky forehead tattoo, either, but it doesn’t surprise him. It looks natural on Higgs. Suits him more than those entirely too human eyes. It’s just another mask underneath all others.

"Fuck." Sam huffs and sits down on the ground heavily, clutches Lou's pod as if it can mend the situation somehow. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

He’s supposed to be happy. Relieved. His worst enemy, the person who’s been tormenting him for God knows how long, who’s responsible for Amelie's capture, who keeps getting in his way, is dead. Killed by a fall from a cliff after accidentally getting stabbed with his own knife in a fight that he initiated. A stupid, stupid death. It seems wrong, somehow. Feels like the rules of the game are broken, like the timing is false. Feels surreal.

Sam is probably supposed to call Die-Hardman, tell him the good news. Brighten Fragile's day while he’s at it. He is supposed to. He should.

He doesn't.

Instead, Sam gets up on his feet and glances up and around. The climb is steep. Thankfully, there is a longer but sturdier path he can actually take with a human body on his back. Well, maybe not on his _back_. He wasn't planning for this, doesn't have the right equipment for an unexpected corpse disposal mission. He won't be able to secure Higgs on his back properly. He won't be able to secure him at all. Sam is not about to drag him through dirt and mud either, so he does the next sensible thing: picks Higgs up and throws him over his shoulder.

"Shit." Sam groans under his weight. "Still messing with me from the other side, huh?"

He sets Higgs down again and goes to remove his weird BB pod, his harness, his weapons, his boots. The pod, obviously, goes to Deadman, everything else goes straight to recycling. Taking it with him now is not an option, though. There is a small cave in the cliff's side where Sam can put Higgs' shit, so he does. This area is extremely prone to timefall, there are no MULEs and barely any porters here, nobody is going to take it. And if they do, well, their problem.

Sam reaches for Higgs again, but his hands stop when he notices golden teeth grinning at him from the mud. Huh. He actually half-expected the mask to dissipate or something, kinda thought of it as a living thing rather than a pretentious accessory. A living thing that would die with its master. Turns out, it’s just a mask after all, but Sam still doesn't feel right just leaving it there. He picks it up, turns it around in his hands, clips it to his hip harness. Then, he finally lifts Higgs up.

He had checked the weather beforehand. No rain for at least another hour, should be plenty of time to get Higgs to the incinerator. Coincidentally, they are really close to it. The whack-job took Sam by surprise on his way down to the safehouse he had set up near the Waystation North of Mountain Knot.

This time, there was no tar spreading at his feet, no monstrous BTs, no bullshit. Just Higgs at his finest, chiral jumping all around Sam, antagonizing him, grinding on his nerves. And then, a booted foot at his knee, fists at his face, anger in his veins. Higgs straight up jumped him, hit him hard and without mercy. Sam retaliated, hit back with all he got. What the hell else was he supposed to do, stand there and take it? They exchanged blows, stupidly, needlessly, and then there was a flash of steel. Unbelievably stupid, bringing a knife to a fist fight with a repatriate, but Higgs did exactly that, and that knife ended up cozily in his stomach. He laughed, he laughed so fucking hard, took the knife out, letting the blood gush out as well, took a couple steps back… Sam couldn't make it in time to prevent him from stumbling off that cliff even if he wanted do. 

And he didn't. He didn't want to save the shittiest person in the entirety of America. No way.

Still, it left him with this numb sense in his stomach, his head heavy and hazy, his limbs moving on autopilot, simply going through familiar motions of delivering cargo without Sam's interference. He hasn't used this incinerator before, never had the need to, but he knew the road well, travelled to Mountain Knot via this highway one too many times. Making one more trip should be easy. Making a trip to _burn Higgs Monaghan's corpse_ should be easy.

It isn't, though, and Sam has absolutely no idea why. The weight of a limp body on his shoulder doesn't factor into this, no, it's something else, something that's got a hold on his heart and is slowly eating him up inside, gnawing at his insides with ugly teeth. Sam is not even sure what bothers him more, the fact that his uniform is getting soaked with Higgs' blood or that thing in his chest that pulls and tugs and screams that this ain't right.

He doesn't register how much time it takes him to reach the building, doesn't even remember walking most of the road. Only that it's quiet and empty, as always, the only sounds timefall brewing somewhere far in the distance and his own heavy steps.

The incinerator looming over the horizon looks grotesque and ugly, oppressing, even, what with its tall walls and gridded windows. Sam absentmindedly thinks that Higgs probably wouldn't have wanted to be buried – if you can even call it a burial – in a place so representative of everything he seemed to despise most. Higgs didn't hesitate to remind him about his hatred for Bridges all those times he appeared in his room uninvited and flapped his mouth about one nonsense or other. The irony isn't lost on Sam.

As soon as he is inside, he lowers the body from his shoulders to take it into his arms, holding Higgs' knees and lower back. Feels wrong, somehow, to just dump him into the pit and be done with it. Sam takes another look at his face, notices with weird apathy that it's ridiculously pretty. Not that it matters now, when the guy is dead. Not that it mattered when he was alive, either.

Still, something, probably the very same thing that's been munching on his heart for the last hour, compels him to kneel on the cold floor, lower Higgs down and reach a hand out to touch his face. It's fine, he's dead, Sam's aphenphosmphobia doesn't mind. He might not mind it much himself either. Higgs has touched him so many goddamn times it's become almost tolerable from him. Almost.

Sam presses his gloved fingers to the dead flesh of his lips, drags them across the bottom one, tugs on it slightly. Half-expects to feel something, anything, but there is nothing. Not even aversion to touch, just numbness and that by-now-familiar sensation of how wrong the whole thing is. It doesn’t really matter, though, does it? It’s already happened and there is nothing he can do about it. The only thing that he can do, _must_ do, is burn the body. Watch it go up in flames under the glass shutters and then finally call Die-Hardman, who, now that Sam thinks about it, might not agree with his decision to dispose of the corpse right away. Heartman certainly wouldn’t approve, either, would probably want to conduct his weird experiments and test Higgs’ blood or some shit.

That’s not happening for them, though, so they’ll just have to deal with it. Sam stands up and goes to the terminal to start the sequence.

Suddenly, there’s a scraping sound behind him. He immediately turns, and his eyes widen in shock.

Higgs’ body is spasming on the floor, feet and fingers scrambling for surface. The broken bone, the one that was sticking out of his arm, draws right back in with a sickening sound. His limbs bend and twist, his bones crack. The sight is stomach-turning, but that’s not what gets to Sam. What gets to him is Higgs opening his eyes, inhaling deeply, turning onto his hands and knees and violently throwing up black tar right on Sam’s boots. The thing in his chest tugs one more time and settles.

This cannot be fucking happening.

Wide-eyed, Sam watches Higgs heave at his feet. He is still vomiting. Why the hell is there so much tar? There is never this much when Sam repatriates. He throws up, sure, but never to this extent. Wait. _Repatriates_. Shit. Higgs is a fucking repatriate, and Sam had absolutely no idea. And, apparently, nobody else did either, otherwise they would’ve surely told him.

“How the hell are we gonna deal with a repatriating terrorist leader with a habit of blowing shit up and a whole BT army on his leash” is what Sam is supposed to be thinking right now. “He looks good on his knees” is what actually surges through his head.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity of coughing up his own lungs, Higgs lifts his head. There’s a toothy grin on his face, tar-stained, just like the whole lower half of his face. His chin is covered in the mess of black and red. Higgs wipes his mouth with the back of his palm.

“Phew! That was a good one.” He clears his throat. “Enjoyed the show, Bridges?”

The show? Was this what Higgs was doing the entire time, putting on a show for him? Purposefully getting impaled on the knife he let Sam take from him, stepping off that cliff? God. He might be even sicker than Sam thought.

“You’re a repatriate.” Sam says matter-of-factly.

“Ah, and here I was hoping to keep it a secret! What gave it away?” Higgs asks with a shit-eating grin. Sam wants to wipe it off with his fists, but they’ve done enough fighting for today, so he sits down in front of Higgs instead. His knees land right in the tar, but he can’t bring himself to care. Being covered in it head to toe is nothing new anyway.

"Why go to all this trouble just to show me you can repatriate? Why make me drag your dead ass all the way out here?" Sam asks, annoyance clear in his voice. "Couldn't you just kill yourself? Or do your usual floating-rocks-tar-lions bullshit?"

"It pays to occasionally switch up your routine, Sammy. You should try it sometime. Who knows, you might like it." Higgs drags himself a little closer through the tar, and Sam immediately leans back to avoid the possibility of touch. Not that it ever really helped him – Higgs loved taking advantage of his ability to jump to catch up with Sam when he was trying to get away, but no matter how often he failed to evade his touch, Sam _still kept trying_ for some reason.

Higgs doesn't jump this time, though, looks down at himself instead, and then back up at Sam, his brow raised.

"Not to change the subject, but did you steal all my shit while I was down? Where is my mask?"

Right. He did strip him of pretty much everything he had on him but his clothes, including the BB pod and masks. Sam completely forgot about that.

"I didn't steal anything. I put it someplace safe so I don't have to take it with me. You were too heavy. And your mask is right here." He points at his hip.

"Always happy to drag two hundred kilos of raisins for dirt farmers on his back, backs down from carrying little old me with a couple of extra guns on." Higgs sighs dramatically and presses a palm to his heart. "You wound me, Sam Porter Bridges."

"Cut the shit, Higgs. Just tell me why you did it so I can fuck off."

"I wanted to show you how it feels, Sammy."

"How what feels?" Sam asks, confused. His throat is suddenly dry. He honestly has no idea what Higgs is talking about, but something inside him reacts to those words, to the way Higgs smiles, so agonizingly and deceptively sweet, to the way he is looking at Sam, his eyes even brighter now when they are not dead.

"This. Us. Our connection."

There is a manic glint in Higgs' eyes as he scoots closer again. Sam backs up too and suddenly feels his back press into one of the room's many columns.

"What are you talking about? What connection?" He grunts, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as Higgs gets closer to him with every passing second while he has nowhere to run.

"Ah, you still don't get it. Your ignorance is actually kinda cute."

Higgs is right in front of him. He sits on his knees, leans forward and presses his hands to the column on both sides of Sam's head. They're both on their knees now, but Higgs is so much taller he looms over Sam, takes up all of his space, becomes the only thing he can see. He is too close, so close it makes Sam's skin burn with phantom pain from the touch yet to come.

Despite that, he still doesn't move.

"You see, Sammy," Higgs leans down, speaks in that sultry voice of his right into Sam's ear, breath hot on his skin, "You and me, we're connected to each other in a way no one else is. We've got DOOMS, sure, but we’ve got something else too."

Higgs' nose touches his temple, and Sam jerks back, painfully hits his head on the column. Higgs chuckles, low and derisive, and then inhales deeply. Sam swears he hears a small moan escape the back of Higgs' throat. Did he just… sniff him? All that tar and blood on him, all that build-up sweat from carrying a heavy body, and Higgs still sniffed him. God. He _is_ sick, isn't he.

"You've been very good, Sammy, so as a reward I'm gonna lay it out for you so you don't have to trouble your pretty little head with all that hard thinking." Higgs says. "You know this… this disgusting fucking _pull_ in your chest? Comes out of nowhere, bothers the shit outta ya and then just, poof, disappears?"

Sam does. Sam does know. Sometimes, he would be on a routine delivery, walking through perfectly easy terrain, no timefall or BTs in sight, and just suddenly get this sinking feeling. It's pretty subtle, doesn't bother him much, but it's still noticeable, still capable of souring his mood. It's usually gone just as fast, never lingers for more than five or ten minutes, and leaves no traces in its wake. Come to think of it, it's very, very much like what Sam experienced when he thought Higgs was dead, just that today, it's been a hundred times stronger.

"Yeah." Sam answers simply. "You know what it is?"

"Oh, I know. I know all too well." Sam can't see Higgs' face, but he can _feel_ his grin. "That, my dear Sammy, is you feeling me die."

After that, Higgs stops. Not just talking, no, he stills completely. Sam isn't sure about that, but he seems to hold his breath too. It's like he’s waiting for some grand reaction to this revelation. For Sam to gasp loudly, to shout out in surprise, to scream "nooooo!" at the top of his lungs like an action hero from a shitty pre-Stranding movie.

Sam furrows his brows and says, "Um."

Higgs is silent for another moment, then lets out a disappointed sigh and carries on.

"You see, my dear eloquent porter, me and you, we share this funny little place where our souls go to wander while our bodies lie mutilated on dirty rocks. The Seam, it's always inside us, floats through our bodies, and we don't like others invading it, no we don't. We hate it when that happens."

Higgs' breath hitches.

"So we feel this ugly restlessness, this fucking thing gnawing at us with its teeth, trying to rip our hearts out." Higgs' speech is hurried now, quick and uneven. "Worse for me than for you, though. That other connection of mine, the one to the other side, makes it… God, it makes me feel it, feel you, every. Goddamn. Time."

Higgs sucks the air in through his teeth and leans even closer, rubs his cheek against Sam's beard, and it makes him want to puke his guts out, but he allows it. Doesn't move an inch away, transfixed and frozen into place by the whole thing, just lets Higgs do this, lets him get closer, closer than ever before.

"Every death," Higgs whispers into his neck. "I feel everything. When you're falling from cliffs, drowning in rivers, getting beaten to death by my boys, I die with you every time. I taste your blood, I hear your bones crumble, see your skull cracking, I…"

At that, Higgs lets out this strangled noise like he’s drowning, his whole body tenses, and then suddenly he’s not looming over Sam anymore. He’s straddling one of his legs, and Sam knows for sure that's not a gun in his pocket – he took them all himself. Higgs is hard. He isn't even trying to hide it, presses himself into Sam's leg. Sam's throat goes dry, and his own dick twitches in response. Fuck.

"Oh, Sam," Higgs breathes out, hot and heavy, "Don't get me wrong, I love it when you die, but that's so… inconvenient at times. I'm with my Demens, right, planning our next move, or with _her_ , being a good little herald of destruction, and suddenly there’s you, crumbling under the weight of your precious cargo and smashing your head on a rock. Do you ever pay attention to where you're going? You got two left feet, I swear. Always fucking dying when I can't afford to get distracted."

Higgs rolls his hips, and this time there is no mistaking the sound he makes. He honest to god moans. It's a quiet, strangled thing, but Higgs' mouth is so close to his ear there is no way Sam could miss it. It shoots right up his spine, makes his head spin. Sam can't wrap his head around the whole concept of this connection that Higgs claims they have, but does he get off on this? On feeling Sam's deaths? How can he, when it feels so freaking horrible?

"I wanted you to feel it too. You see, the closer we are, physically, the worse it gets. What you felt today? Happens to me like this when you’re a thousand miles away, you… Ah, shit... "

Higgs starts slowly rutting against Sam's leg, and god, he should be disgusted, he should want to get rid of the weight of another body on his as soon as possible, his aphenphosmphobia should be freaking out right now, and it is, but it's lowkey, it’s tolerable, Sam can put it in the back of his mind and just _feel_ , feel this desire building up inside of him. It's borderline painful, but Sam just… he just… He just _wants_. Wants to put his hands on Higgs' hips and grind him down onto his leg, pull him closer, press his already hard cock into him.

“Higgs.” Sam says. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Shit, Bridges, I know you’re a bit dense, but surely not _that_ dense?” Higgs asks and pulls back a little so he can look Sam in the eye. His own eyes are hazy, glazed over with something hungry and desperate. Something that makes Sam’s stomach turn with desire. “What does it feel like I’m doing, hm?”

“It feels like you’re dry humping me like a damn dog while talking about our shared ability to feel each other die,” Sam mumbles, slightly disgruntled. “Excuse me if I’m a little confused.”

Higgs laughs and looks at him with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Honestly, the whole Seam thing ain’t that hard to comprehend, but I’ll break it down for the feeble-minded. We share a death pool, we feel shitty when one of us croaks, I’m really over having to put up with it, but ain’t nothing we can do ‘bout it, so might as well have ourselves some fun. As for the other thing… Well, that thing surely _is_ hard.”

Higgs pointedly rocks his hips and leans in again, touches his lips to Sam’s ear, starts whispering right into it. It’s electricity, hot and beautiful and painful, making him want to crawl out of his own skin and crave more at the same time.

“Come on, Bridges, I know you want it. I’ve seen you having yourself some grand ol’ time in that hot spring up in the mountains.”

“Um… The one near the Roboticist?” Sam asks, dumbfounded, even though he already knows perfectly well what Higgs is talking about.

“That’s the one, Sammy,” Higgs practically singsongs. “That’s the one.”

Well, shit. That’s not something Sam ever wanted Higgs to find out. See, he never really bothered with masturbation. Didn’t feel the need for it, didn’t enjoy it much. Did it three or maybe four times a year purely for the sake of staying healthy. Lately, though, he’s been having… dreams. Hot and sticky, leaving him wired and on edge, fabric of his cum-stained boxers clinging to his skin when he woke up. Those dreams always featured a special appearance, one currently sitting in his lap, and Sam was sick of it. He tried to push it to the back of his mind, but that one time when he decided to take a break and soak off in the spring, Lou with Deadman at the time, he just… Let his mind wander. And somehow ended up fucking his fist while imagining a certain mouth around his cock instead of his own hand. He came embarrassingly fast and shockingly hard with Higgs’ name on his lips.

And Higgs saw that. Fuckin’ A.

Suddenly, realization dawns upon Sam, and he frowns. “Wait. Wait. How could you see that!? Were you following me around or something?”

“A God never reveals his secrets, Sammy, else people may peruse them.”

Sam should’ve figured he would just spit his usual cryptic shit, but the thought of Higgs following him around like that creeps the hell out of him. He really wants to know. He opens his mouth to ask again, more forcefully, but is cut short when Higgs’ lips close around his earlobe, teeth lightly scraping skin as he resumes his hips’ motions.

God. Sam is so hard it hurts.

“Would you get that thing off?” Higgs asks, irritated, as he taps his fingers on Lou’s pod. “It’s kinda getting in my way.”

Sam hesitates. Would it really be safe to take the pod off? Does he trust Higgs enough to be sure he won’t do anything? A stupid freaking question, of course he doesn’t trust Higgs enough. He doesn’t trust him at all. On the other hand, he’s never expressed any interest in his BB and also has his own. Which he doesn’t seem to care much for, too, since learning Sam left it in a cave didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. Chances that he’s planned all this just to hurt Lou are immensely low. There is, most likely, nothing to worry about, especially in Higgs’ current state where he seems to care more about getting off than anything else.

So, Sam takes a chance on him and straps the already darkened pod off, carefully sets it aside as far as possible for him to still be able to reach it if need be. Does the same with the mask. Stretches his legs out. Raises his gaze at Higgs, searches his face carefully for any type of malicious intent, but he doesn’t seem to give two shits, not about Lou nor his weird murderous accessory. That leads Sam to the conclusion that Higgs, most likely, can easily make another one, which is not a calming thought, but Sam will have to muse on that later. Hard to think straight when half the blood in your body went to its nether regions.

Higgs sighs with relief, mutters something barely audible along the lines of “fucking finally” and suddenly, without warning, he is straddling Sam, his knees on both sides of his hips. When Higgs grinds himself down, he does so with purpose. The purpose of rubbing his ass on Sam’s dick. Sam exhales sharply and throws his head back, curling his fingers into his palms.

“H–hold your fucking horses,” he breathes out. “How are we doing this?”

“Rough and dirty, hopefully,” Higgs smirks at him and slowly, purposefully licks his tar-stained lips, lapping the black liquid up with his tongue. If Sam’s pants could get any tighter, they would.

“Not what I meant.”

“Geez, Bridges, never heard about going with the flow? Well, if you insist on having a hook-up roadmap, well, first we…“

“I wanna fuck you.” Sam says abruptly. “You fine with that?”

For a second, Higgs just stares at him. “Yeah, I’m, uh… I’m down for that.” His voice is hoarse with arousal as he bites down on his lip. Sam is honestly surprised by the lack of sarcasm in his response, but Higgs quickly makes up for that. "Never pegged _you_ for having a dirty mouth, Bridges. You keep talking like that and we're gonna be just golden."

Thing is, Sam doesn't. He doesn't have a "dirty mouth" at all, saying shit like that doesn't come naturally to him, likely because sex in general doesn't either. He hasn't wanted anybody since Lucy. Before her, there were a couple of pointless hookups – awkward experimentation in his teenage years, his growing body and erratic hormone levels pushing him to do something about it, but nothing more. Not that convenient to try and get laid when you hate being touched, either. Nobody could light that spark in him for years, and here he is, with a lap full of mentally ill terrorist, ridiculously desperate to get his dick inside him. Life works in mysterious ways.

"Take your clothes off." Sam says, surprised at how low and husky his voice sounds.

"Though you wanted me to hold my horses, Sammy." Higgs smirks, but still follows the order.

He quickly takes off his cape and shirt, throws them to the side without looking. They land right in the tar. Higgs doesn't seem to care about that, climbers off of Sam, stands up, starts undoing his belt. Funny, but Sam only now notices that Higgs is wearing make up, half-ruined at this point, eyeliner all kinds of smeared. There’s still the mess of blood and tar on chin, too, and Sam suddenly has this burning desire to fuck it up even more, make him cry and watch it run down his face. Sam has no idea where this is coming from, never had impulses like that his entire life, but Higgs… Higgs somehow manages to dig his claws deep inside his chest, drag out this raw, animalistic side of him and let it take the wheel.

Death. They're bound by death. What's more primal than that?

Watching Higgs strip his pants down is fucking torture. He doesn't miss the opportunity to make it a show, of course – Sam should've figured. He is agonizingly slow with the belt, even worse with the zipper, palms his dick as he pulls it down, starts grinding on his own hand, making soft noises, biting down on his lower lip again. Obscene, lewd, almost unbearably hot. Sam silently watches, jaw clenched, gaze fixed entirely on Higgs as he finally abandons his theatrics and starts actually pulling his pants down. Huh. No underwear. Figures. No body hair, either, only clean-shaven, extremely smooth-looking skin. Sam wants to color it with bruises.

"Like what you see, Bridges?" Higgs asks and spreads his hands, showing himself off, absolutely unashamed to be standing stark naked, cock hard and leaking, in front of his mortal enemy inside of a government facility.

Instead of answering – he is pretty sure his hungry gaze roaming Higgs' body says more than enough anyway – Sam reaches for the multiple straps on the upper part of his suit and starts hastily undoing them, the motion easy by now, guided by the muscle memory of doing it multiple times. Sam wasn't planning to undress at all, actually, the layer of clothing his safeguard from being directly touched. By now, he can handle Higgs touching him, actually wants it, but definitely not on his bare skin and not with hands. Lips and tongue on his face are more than enough to send Sam spinning, and he has no idea what's gonna happen if Higgs lays his hands on his neck, chest, stomach. Still, he gets rid of the upper half of his uniform. It's too damn hot inside the suit, unbearably so. He will have to trust Higgs to behave.

"Lookin' good, Bridges," Higgs practically purrs as he climbs back onto Sam's lap, completely naked now. "Wanna put my mouth on that freaky scar of yours."

"No!" Sam says abruptly. "No touching, asshole. You lay your hands or mouth on me and you don't get to cum."

“Bossy, aren’t we?" Higgs smirks, showing his teeth, but Sam doesn't miss a small shiver that runs down his body. 

Does Higgs… like this? Being ordered around, told what to do? Sam can work with that. Yeah.

"Want you to stretch yourself for me." He says, focused on Higgs' face, on how his expression momentarily changes to something lust-ridden and vulnerable at those words before it's back to his usual smug smirk.

"Want me to do all the work, huh? Are all Bridges guys this lazy, or is it just you?"

"You planning to fuck other Bridges guys soon?"

"Aw, don't be jealous, Sammy."

"I'm not. Get to work, will ya?"

At that, Higgs laughs, does a little mock bow – how the hell he manages to do it straddling somebody naked and not look like a complete idiot is beyond Sam – and then does just that. Gets to work.

He raises his hand to his lips and slips two fingers in, licks at them with his mouth open for Sam to see. His tongue slips between his fingers occasionally, curls around them, generously covering them with spit, and Sam's dick aches at the sight. He aches all over, too, aches with a maddening desire to reach out, to touch, to put his own fingers in Higgs' mouth, press them down on his tongue, push them in deeper and make him choke on them, watch tears well in the corners of his eyes as he gags.

He doesn’t do any of those things, though, just watches silently, his breath heavy with arousal, as Higgs wraps up his performance to reach behind himself.

“Nah. Not like this.” Sam stops him. “Turn around. Wanna see.”

“Aren’t you full of surprises today.” There it is again, that glint of something real behind the layers and layers of Higgs’ masks. Sam can’t help but wonder what’s gonna happen if you strip them all off.

Higgs does what he is told, turns around, his back facing Sam now. There’s a tattoo between his shoulder blades going down his spine. It’s some kind of anthropomorphic creature with the head of a dog, black and gold, just like pretty much everything Higgs owns. It’s really well done, but Sam can’t pay much attention to it when Higgs is slipping one wet finger inside his hole with a small sigh.

“Fuck,” Higgs breathes out. Sam couldn’t agree more.

Higgs doesn’t really give himself time to adjust, starts moving almost instantly, sets a rough pace right from the start. Sam’s eyes are glued to where his finger disappears into his body, to the way his rim stretches with every movement, his legs shaking a little. Higgs isn’t timid about his noises, either. They’re not loud, yet, just these soft, quiet, intoxicating moans. When Higgs pushes a second finger in, curses again and falls forward, bracing himself with a bent elbow on Sam’s knee, Sam curses too and reaches a hand to rub at his painfully hard dick through his pants.

“S–Shit, Bridges,” Higgs says as he starts fucking himself with two fingers, slower and more careful now, “Never done it with somebody watching me. Shame. Should’ve.”

“Do it often by yourself, then?”

“Got a pretty stressful job, need to relax somehow, don’t I?”

“And when you feel me die?” The questions comes from somewhere deep down his reptile brain, harsh and sudden. It startles him, but it’s too late to back down now.

A loud, broken noise escapes Higgs’ throat as he buries his fingers deeper inside. “...Yeah.”

“You’re sick.” Sam says, barely audible, and presses his palm down harder when the thought sends a new spike of arousal surging through his entire body. He might be sick too.

Higgs laughs, breathless and uneven. “Tell me something I don’t know, Sammy.”

Sam pulls down his zipper, takes his cock out through the slit in his underwear, wraps his palm around the shaft. Jerks himself off while Higgs really starts to get into it, fucks himself relentlessly with two fingers, twists and curls them inside, lets out a loud whimpering moan as he hits a spot he must have been searching for. His lower back is glistening with sweat as he arches it, showing himself off even more, and Sam can’t fucking take it anymore.

“Think you ready?” He asks, trying to sound as casual as possible, to mask his impatience. Fails miserably.

“I’ve seen your dick, Bridges, don’t think a guy can ever be ready for that horrific thing.” Higgs slips his fingers out with a small sigh. “So, naturally, I am.”

He turns around again, looks down hungrily at where Sam’s hand is still wrapped around his cock. Sam never thought of himself as particularly big (never thought about it at all, really), but Higgs is definitely smaller. Not small, just smaller. How about that. 

Sam lets go of himself as Higgs moves up his legs. He doesn’t sink down onto him immediately, though. Positions himself just the right way, moves his hips slowly, rubbing himself on Sam’s dick in a way that makes the swollen head catch on his rim just slightly with each upthrust.

“Gonna lube yourself up, Bridges, or are you gonna let me do it?” Higgs asks hoarsely.

Sam frowns. Fuck. How could he forget about that? “Spit is shitty lube. I’ll hurt you.”

“Aw, Sammy, afraid of hurting your worst enemy. How cute.” Higgs chuckles. “Don’t you worry your soft little heart. Got us covered.”

Higgs snaps his fingers, and suddenly Sam’s right hand feels wet and slimy. Bewildered, he raises it to his eyes to see that it’s covered with some weird black shit, much like the tar he’s used to, but slicker and not as thick. It slowly drips down his fingers and onto the floor.

“What the...”

“Unclench your freaking butt, It’s not gonna bite ya.” Higgs rolls his eyes. “It’s your basic tar, just a little adjusted for our, ahem, current needs.”

“You want me to put this shit on my dick?” Sam asks with disbelief, still staring at his palm.

“No, I want you to write it a poem. Would you pull your head out of your ass and fuck me already?”

Sam relents. He really doesn’t have any other option, and coating his dick with some freaky tar lube Higgs apparently made out of thin air should probably be the least of his worries. Doesn’t seem that bad compared to the fact that he’s about to have sex with Higgs freaking Monaghan, honestly. So, when Higgs pulls himself up a bit so Sam can reach a hand between them, Sam does just that, careful to avoid accidentally touching Higgs in the process, though they are so close his skin prickles at the almost-contact. Turns out, this tar feels exactly the same as the lube he has in his private room. If not for its color, Sam wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference.

“Alright, all s… S–Shit, Higgs!”

Higgs sinks onto him without warning. Braces himself with his hands on the column on both sides of Sam’s head and just goes for it. Can’t take the whole thing in one go, stops on the middle, breathes hard and fast, sweat beading on his temples and upper lip. Sam is struck down with this sudden heat enveloping him, this impossible tightness around his cock that almost makes him cum right there and then. If Higgs hadn’t taken a break, he probably would have.

“Hell, how are you… this fucking big...” Higgs rolls his hips a little, as if testing it out, then lowers himself just a bit, and then a sharp gasp is forced out of Sam’s throat as Higgs takes his whole length in one smooth motion. Sam’s fingers curl into fists, he throws his head back, lightly grazing Higgs’ strained arms with his brow, closes his eyes.

Higgs starts moving, slowly, and it’s good, it’s so fucking good, his warm body on top, the litany of moans escaping his lips, the way Sam’s dick is sliding inside him, but still, somehow, it’s not enough. There’s something missing. It scrapes at his arms, vibrates in his hands, rips through his fingertips with hundreds of needles. This need to do something but just sit there, this desire he didn’t know he could experience. A complete and utter contravention of everything he knows himself to be.

Higgs’ pace quickens, becomes less measured, more erratic, and Sam is so lost in it he almost misses it when he speaks again.

“You’re one lazy bastard, Bridges.”

Sam opens his eyes. Higgs is looking down at him, annoyance clear on his face as he starts moving rougher, lifts himself up almost completely only to slam back down, make Sam groan desperately.

“Would you just… just… Just fucking touch me, Sam, god…”

Sam doesn’t let him finish. This thing that’s been boiling inside him the entire time, it overflows, takes over him completely. Their twisted connection, tugging at his strings, overwriting everything else.

He grabs Higgs’ hips and all but throws him to the floor, face-down into the tar, fists a hand in his hair, kicks his legs apart. Higgs almost chokes when he slips inside him again.

“Shit, Bridges,” Higgs laughs shakily, “Fuck, yeah, that’s the ticket.”

Sam fucks him stupid. It’s rough, erratic, his dick slamming in and out of him with animalistic force. He loses himself in it completely, in this cruel pace, in Higgs’ loud shameless moans, in the foreign feeling of his body so close. Still, it doesn’t escape him when Higgs whimpers under him after he changes his angle slightly.

“Fuck-fuck-fuck, Sam, yeah, right there, right fucking there... ” Higgs sobs as his fingers grasp at the cold floor for surface, stumble upon his own cape, clasp the fabric desperately, his knuckles white even in the black tar.

Sam obliges, starts fucking him with more purpose, makes sure to hit that spot with each thrust. It’s maddening, how Higgs reacts. His profanities, Sam’s name constantly falling from his lips, the way he squirms and arches his back, and his face, his goddamn face, the runny makeup, the absolute mess of tar, dried blood, sweat and spit, it’s too much, and Sam bends down, yanks his head up by the hair and kisses him.

It’s open-mouthed, messy, completely uncontrolled. Their teeth cling painfully, tongues wet and desperate against each other. At some point, Sam tastes metal. Higgs might have bitten his lip, or Sam might have bitten his, but it doesn’t matter, none of it freaking matters, because Higgs is moaning his name loudly into his mouth and clenches around him, his whole body shaking. Sam only distantly registers that Higgs is cumming, without even being touched, but that’s what does it for him. Chasing his own release, he fucks into Higgs sloppily, and it doesn’t take much.

His orgasm surges through his entire body. He feels it in his limbs and bones, keeps moving his hips until the very last second. When he finally stops and finds it in himself to pull out, he hears the sound of rain outside.

“Please don’t tell me you make it rain when you jizz,” Sam says, trying to catch his breath.

Higgs rolls onto his back, glances toward the exit, then back at Sam and smirks. He looks absolutely wrecked, his hair a disheveled mess, his expression completely fucked-out. It actually manages to somehow make Sam’s dick twitch.

“Only when it’s good, Sammy,” he winks, and Sam honestly doesn’t expect the flash of black and gold that comes after, actually feels disappointed, but, turns out, Higgs isn’t gone yet. Sam turns around and sees that he teleported to where he put Lou and the mask, tenses momentarily when it seems like Higgs is reaching for the pod, but he only grabs his mask.

“Would you refresh my memory and remind me where you oh so kindly left all of my stuff?” Higgs asks as he starts pulling on his pants.

“Where you died. There’s a small cave in the cliff.”

Another flash, and Higgs is sitting in front of him cross legged, mask in hand.

“Thank you for a lovely time, Mr. Bridges,” he smirks. “Until your next death.”

He jumps to his feet, winks and bows out. Quite literally – makes a little mock bow and disappears in another flash of black and gold.

Sam doesn’t bother with wiping chiral allergy tears as he turns his head toward the incinerator exit. It’s raining cats and dogs. No way he can go outside. He’ll have to wait it out here, half-naked in the puddle of tar, Higgs’ ruined cape to keep him company. Higgs is a fucker for leaving him like this, but Sam can’t bring himself to care. Not about that, not about what a stupid, stupid thing he did. His head is blissfully empty, and when he feels that familiar tug in his chest, he knows exactly what it is.

**Author's Note:**

> The working title for this was "The Tale of Horny Higgs"


End file.
